Thursday, March 15, 2012

Breaking Through the Wall

Late on our first Thursday night in Israel, the sky
was dark but the Kotel was brightly lit and surrounded by Jews. With my
friends, we made our way down to the women’s section of the Kotel. I stepped up
to the holy wall, and placed a hand lightly on the cold stone. At that moment,
I realized that the entire Jewish population is connected and we give each
other strength. We all come from different backgrounds but we are all united by
our beliefs, our history, and our home: Israel.

The Kotel is much more than the only remaining wall of the temple; it is the
holiest place on earth for Jews. The scene can not be compared to any other;
the joy and sadness can not be described with the words in the English
vocabulary. Hope-filled notes poured out of the cracks of the sacred western
wall and crouching women prayed silently, tears streaming down their faces.
Standing a few feet away from the wall with my fellow classmates, I was
starting to wonder if I should come closer. I felt God’s presence at the wall,
and each step I took brought me closer and closer to God. This new feeling
scared me; nevertheless, I pushed myself towards the holiest place on earth. I
clutched my note, folded it twice, and made sure that I had remembered to
include wishes for my entire family. Carefully, I placed my note into a crack
that resembled a broken star. Studying the wall carefully, I noticed scratches
that came together to take on the image of a chickadee on a perch. I ran my
hand cautiously along the indents. The uneven, cold stones felt smooth against
my palm. Quietly, along with all the praying women, I began to cry. For some
reason, being close to God in a way that I had never been before was too much
for me to handle. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and began to
pray.

At that moment, the amount of
anxiety and delight of this new experience prevented me from understanding the
connection I had found to my history and my home. Looking back, I can see that
the Jews have made it, against all odds. Many others have tried to destroy our
religion and erase our beliefs but we have always chosen to rise above them.
Twice Israel’s largest temples have been demolished and yet we still have the
Kotel and may freely pray there. In Russia, my family was denied freedom of
religion and were kept from studying Jewish history. They were persecuted and
robbed; nonetheless, they combined their strength and survived multiple
pogroms. Prior to my visit to the Kotel, I was sure that there would always be
certain obstacles that I could not tackle, situations I could not change. Now I
know that Judaism gives one power to prevail.

After long thought, I made sense of
all that I have learned on my Israel trip: trust in God and knowledge of
history lead individuals onward. Not only did I discover my relationship to
Jewish peoplehood, I also discovered the link that I created between my
family’s history in Russia and the new generation. Similar to the Kotel’s role
in Judaism, I am the only piece of the puzzle that is left. Daily, I must feed
information from the Torah to those family members who never had the
opportunity to learn. Not unlike Elie Wiesel’s responsibility to share the
knowledge of the Holocaust, I must be the messenger maintaining belief and
hope.